


A Child's Regret

by Rocketman23



Series: Cuphead Prompts [6]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dice is just a kid in the beginning, Gen, gotta raise em right from a young age after all, minor blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocketman23/pseuds/Rocketman23
Summary: The Devil recruits a new lackey!





	A Child's Regret

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked- "you have been listening, i'm mildly impressed"

He drags his tired body, bloody and a little broken, around the corner of a building and slinks silently into a side alley. The rain steadily picks up as he pushes himself into a corner behind a trashcan, hoping against hope that this would conceal him, or keep him hidden at least long enough for him to gather his wits. The clouds above him begin to darken as the low beginnings of thunder can be heard. Great, just what he needed. He ponders on moving from his spot and finding some shelter when the hurried footsteps of men come crashing by. He holds his breathe and goes as still as a statue, the skies letting forth small droplets of rain.

“Ey, boss!” a man shouts, the boy recognises the gruff voice, probably one of those goons he kicked in the groin when making his escape.

“What” oh yes, the boy definitely recognised this man’s voice, it had a scratchy tone it, kind of like someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard. The boy concluded that the knife headed man’s only purpose in life was to torture people simply by speaking. “Ya found im?”

“w-well no, but ah found ‘is blood trail..” fuck, the boy hadn’t even noticed he’d been dripping blood what will all the other pains calling for his sole attention but upon further inspection his left leg did have a pretty nice gash in it. Dammnit, he was going to be found at this rate. He thinks of all his escape routes and prepares himself to make a diversion (throwing a rock at something opposite yourself always worked like a charm) 

“well let’s get moving before the rain clears the tracks away!” he orders his men away and the boy listens as the padding of feet slowly fades, the rain having picked up with his heartbeat and soaking him to the bone. He thanks whatever gods are looking out for him in that moment, though he’s not too sure why. He lets his back fall heavily against the brick, taking a second to poke and prod at his wounds, assessing which he thinks might need more immediate care. He fails to notice the sudden appearance of a shadowy figure, claws grasping an umbrella. 

“can’t trust simple fools to find a brat nowadays” the figure snidely quips, procuring a cigar from nowhere and setting it alight, a flame burning at his fingertip

Of course this makes the young boy squeak, an undignified sound that has the shadowy figure cackling, the sound coming out as static and grating on his small ears. He clamps his hands around his head, trying in vain to block out the noise and demands, “Wh-who’re you?” 

“Are you sure you want to know?” the person fires back, amusement and a tone that the boy is unfamiliar with lacing their voice. The person in question puffs from their cigar, the smoke forming a veil about them and further reducing the boy’s vision of them. The smell makes him cough and he fights back tears as he hunches over, trying to avoid inhaling in more smoke than necessary. This of course makes the person laugh and the boy thinks this is either some cruel joke or that maybe he was so seriously hurt that he is hallucinating.

“What ’sa matter pipsqueak, cat got yer tongue” he flicks his serpentine tongue out and the boy is wondering what on earth he has gotten himself into.

He steels himself and asks “what- what are you??” 

He wishes he hadn’t asked “well now” the man (from the tone of voice he assumes the person is male) begins “I’m not really sure myself” he twirls his umbrella, a shower of droplets spraying everywhere. 

“I could be a snake” he flicks his tongue out again. 

“Or a bear” he drags his clawed feet against the sodden earth, leaving deeps marks in the ground. Oh boy. 

“Maybe a goat or some say a spider” his voice has dropped an octave and great horns break through the top of the umbrella and begin to curl. His body only having two arms now has two extra pairs, reaching out towards the young boy.

“Are you prepared to find out?” his voice has impossibly dropped another octave, a thick line of spit dripping from rows of razor sharp teeth but most unnerving for the boy were his eyes. Blood red and seeming to look straight into his soul, a hunger swimming there. The boy gulps and stares back, unable to say anything in that moment. 

“Didn’t think so” in a second the creature has gone back to his more human form and calls up a gaping void with a flick of his hand. He turns to saunter away with a “don’t ever try an’ steal from me again kid” and there’s evidently a threat of certain death in those words but the boy shouts back at him anyways.

“I can take it!”

“Well you have been listening, im mildly impressed” the creature turns, arms crossed and a sinister grin playing with his lips. The creature pauses a little, considering the child. “What’s yer name?” 

“Kingsley Dice” Dice stands, every pain in his body screaming out in agony and walks closer to the creature, hopping slightly on his bad leg and clutching at his ribs. “What should I call you?” 

The creature barks a laugh “you got guts kid” he leans down, the scent of rotted flesh flooding over Dice, “call me Devil” 

And with that the creat- err Devil jumps down through the oily looking portal, unsure whether he was supposed to follow or not but, despite his better judgment, trudges towards it and with one last look at the world he would soon forget, steps into the portal. 

~0~

A young man dressed heavily in purple sits at his desk, a cautious hand checking the latest wound his boss had given him. He wasn’t the one who dropped the most expensive whisky in the place and did not think he deserved the thin red mark that tainted his cheek. He powders and fusses over the little mark and at last gives up, better to let it heal naturally than try and cover it up. 

He rises from his chair and looks over his lavish bedroom and sighs. Even with all this comfort the king could not rest. He blamed the pattering of rain on his window. It made him remember what a fool he had been. 

With a walk that would have women following in his tracks and a grace that his past child self would have snickered at, he crosses his room and closes the curtains to the world outside.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey!   
> did you enjoy this fic?  
> if ya did please leave a kudos and comment what you enjoyed!


End file.
